


I Shiver in Gold

by kueble



Series: I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: Jaskier gets prettied up and they have some fun.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050317
Comments: 13
Kudos: 101





	I Shiver in Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo prompt: Lingerie.
> 
> Jaskier's lingerie is inspired by [This](https://lovechildboudoir.com/products/summer-of-love-yellow-rose-cage-briefs).

“I have to admit that I’m a bit jealous of you,” Jaskier says from his position on the bed. He’s sprawled on his back with his head and hands hanging off the edge, upside-down and watching Yennefer as she paints her face at her vanity.

“Do we have to talk about the Djinn again?” she asks with a long sigh, but Jaskier just waives his hands at her and starts rambling.

“No, no, not that. I am fully secure in my relationship with Geralt. You are one of my dearest friends, and I would never begrudge you the past,” he explains before flopping over and resting his chin on his hands to look at her. “I’m talking about your clothing, of course. I’d beg for the name of your tailor, but I’ve seen you turn rags into the outfits you wear. I wish I could do that, hence the jealousy.”

“Always nice to be appreciated for my skills,” she says, laughing deeply as she stills her hand, not wanting to ruin the makeup she’s applying. “I suppose I am feeling a bit generous today. After dinner, bring me an outfit you won’t mind losing. We can turn it into anything you can think up.”

“Er, by anything do you mean,” Jaskier trails off, pursing his lips as he flounders for the right words.

“ _Of course_ you’re going to turn it into a sex thing,” Yen snorts but she’s smiling as she turns from her mirror and look at him. “Only if you let me do your face, too.”

“Not to be vain, but I _like_ my face,” Jaskier argues, but he supposes that he’s willing to let her do whatever needs to be done for a night of fun.

“You are an absolute buffoon, and I have no idea why I put up with you,” she rolls her eyes and gestures with her makeup brush, “Some lip stain and rouge, maybe something for your eyes. Ciri won’t let me mess around with her makeup, so you’ll have to do.”

“Oh, well that is perfectly reasonable. Alright then,” he stands up and claps his hands together cheerfully. “I’ll be back after dinner!”

\---

After promising Geralt a surprise when he returns, Jaskier makes his way to Yennefer’s quarters. He’s wearing an older doublet, one that he won’t mind being turned into something a lot more fun. He’s also carrying his cloak, since he doesn’t plan on anyone besides Geralt seeing him one he’s done up for the night. He found time to sneak away for a bath before dinner, so he’s a clean palette and surrounded by the soft scent of almonds and vanilla. His pulse is racing in excitement when he knocks on Yen’s door and is beckoned inside.

“Someone’s eager,” she remarks, but her eyes are kind as she gestures for him to shut the door behind him.

“Well it’s not often I’m given such a gift like this, now is it?”

“It’s not a big deal,” she waves him off, even though they both know this is something special. “We should start with the outfit and go from there, I think.”

“You’re in charge,” Jaskier reminds her just to see her smirk again.

“I need you to focus on what you’d like your outfit to look like. I’ll pull it right from your mind, so really think hard about it,” she tells him, and Jaskier closes his eyes before picturing what he’s looking for.

There’s a long moment of silence and then he can feel the fabric reworking itself around his body. He’s too nervous to move, doesn’t even open his eyes, as he feels his clothing change shape and hopefully settle into what he’s dreamt up.

“Glad you brought your cloak. Not very modest, is it?” Yennefer teases and Jaskier’s eyes fly open. She moves him across to her vanity and he gasps as his reflection in the mirror.

“You’re amazing,” he mutters while he takes it in. He can hear her congratulating herself, but all he can pay attention to is his own image in the mirror. He trails his fingertips across the butter yellow straps crisscrossing around his throat. His pulse flutters under his fingers as he stares wide-mouthed at himself.

The outfit - if one can call it that - is mostly straps of golden ribbon. The weave around his throat before crossing his upper chest, leaving his nipples free before winding around underneath his pecs. Embroidered buttercups frame his chest, the flowers a delicate contrast against his chest hair. The straps crisscross again, framing his abdomen before winding around his upper thighs. There’s another sprinkle of buttercups trailing from his waist to his thighs, but his soft prick sits unadorned between all the decoration.

He spins and looks at the mirror over his shoulder, letting out another gasp at the sight of the yellow straps winding around his back and cupping his ass, making it seem perkier than usual. He brushes his hands down the straps, shivering at how soft and silky the ribbon feels.

He feels delicately masculine, and it’s everything he’d hoped for and more.

“Thank you,” he whispers, suddenly remembering Yennefer is standing right next to him.

“Yes, yes,” she scoffs, tossing his cloak at him. “Let’s get you covered up since I’ve already gotten more than an eyeful. Still alright with me doing up your face a bit?”

“Of course,” Jaskier confirms before hiding in his cloak. He sits down on the chair in front of her vanity and tries to sit as still as possible as Yennefer looks over her choices before grabbing a small jar of powder and a brush.

“I know it’s hard, but be still for me. It’ll be worth it,” she promises, and Jaskier nods as he lets his eyes fall shut.

For the next few minutes, all he knows is the soft brush against his eyelids and his cheeks accompanied by Yen’s gentle humming. She directs him through letting her line his eyes in dark kohl, careful not to take a brush to the eye. Then she purses her lips and goes back and forth between a couple lip stains before asking him, “pink or peach?”

“Peach,” he decides, and her smile tells him he made the right choice. He parts his lips and lets her paint the stain on, doing his best to sit as still as possible so nothing gets ruined.

“Perfect,” she says once she’s done. Jaskier steals a glance at the mirror, eyes going wide at the way his face is done up. His eyes are golden and bronze, the colors making the blue brighter than normal. There’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks and his lips are bright peach. He smacks them together, loving the way the color makes them look plump and shiny. 

Yennefer takes his chin between her fingers and tilts his head as she studies him, nodding sharply once she decides he’s finished. “Geralt is in for a treat. Now get out of here and spare me the details later on.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Jaskier tells her, but she just waves a hand at him again. 

“It gets boring and we’ve all been locked in here for too damn long. I’m so dreadfully in need of entertainment that I’ve gotten permission for a visitor next week. You’re doing me a favor by letting me play around with you,” she says with a shrug.

“Still,” Jaskier says softly, waiting for her to meet his eyes, “Thank you, Yen. I’m glad we can do things like this. I value your friendship.”

“Oh, fuck off, bard,” she says without malice, laughing as she practically shoves him out of her room.

\---

Jaskier doesn’t realize he’s nervous until he’s stepping through the door to their room. He takes a deep breath and shuts the door behind him. Geralt is lounging on their bed, looking ridiculously soft and content while he reads. He smiles in greeting, then quirks an eyebrow at Jaskier’s appearance.

“Bit cold tonight?” Geralt asks slowly. He marks his page and closes his book, tossing it onto the bedside table before sending Jaskier a worried look.

“Just foolish,” he says, laughing as he plays with the edge of his large hood. “I promised you a surprise, though, and I’m hoping it’s a good one? I forgot this might not be for everyone, but...well here goes nothing.” He flicks back the hood, and Geralt lets out a small gasp, eyes widening as he takes in the makeup adorning Jaskier’s face.

“You look gorgeous,” he says, and Jaskier doesn’t need witcher senses to tell he means it; it’s written across his features. Another deep breath, and then Jaskier smirks before opening his cloak and dropping it off his shoulders.

There’s a long moment where Geralt doesn’t say anything, just gapes at him, blinking slowly. But then he’s on his feet, scurrying to stand in front of Jaskier, hands held palm out like he wants to touch but isn’t sure he should yet.

“Sweet Melitele, you’re going to be the death of me,” he growls out, swallowing thickly as he eyes Jaskier up and down.

“I admit, it’s a bit much, but I thought it would be fun.”

“It’s not much at all,” Geralt counters, chuckling as he meets Jaskier’s gaze. He nods, and Geralt finally touches him, smoothing his broad hands across the straps resting on his hips. Jaskier hums happily at the attention and leans into him, sighing as Geralt lets his hands wander over his stomach and thighs.

He’s half hard by the time Geralt circles him, stopping to stand at his back. Geralt cups his chest from behind, brushing his thumbs over his nipples as his fingertips trace the line of flowers beneath them. With a shiver, Jaskier sighs and arches into the touch, earning a soft press of lips against the nape of his neck. Geralt continues to tease him, pinching his sensitive nipples and drawing a string of broken moans out of him.

“I love how responsive you are,” Geralt whispers before rubbing his nose on the soft skin beneath his ear. His hands are everywhere, calloused fingertips tracing the lines of the straps from his thighs to his chest to where they weave together at the hollow of his throat. Jaskier lets his head fall back, resting on Geralt’s shoulder as his lover follows the path of the lingerie and runs his knuckles down Jaskier’s spine. He settles his thumbs on the dimples above Jaskier’s ass, kneading him gently in a way that pulls another moan out of him.

Jaskier feels like he should be a better participant, but he’s unformed clay in Geralt’s hands. All he can do is react to every small touch, ever brush of rough skin against his own. He manages to reach back and thread his fingers in Geralt’s hair, tightening his hold when he groans and rakes his nails down Jaskier’s thighs. Geralt slips his thumbs under the straps that circle Jaskier’s thighs, tugging slightly and causing the ribbon to dig into his skin in such a delicious way.

“Need you,” Jaskier rasps out, his voice cracking. He wets his lips and rocks backwards, grinning when he feels the hard press of Geralt against his ass.

“I’m yours,” Geralt replies, and Jaskier whines before spinning in his arms and crushing their mouths together.

Jaskier plasters himself to Geralt’s solid body, hooking a leg over his hip and wrapping his arms around his neck. Geralt cups his ass, holding him up as he licks his way into Jaskier’s mouth, deepening the kiss. He swallows Jaskier’s moans and squeezes his ass before picking him up and carrying him over to their bed.

He lets out a squeak as he’s tossed on the bed, but follows it with a giggle. Geralt shrugs at him, pouting slightly before tugging his shirt over his head. He shoves his pants off and climbs onto the bed, crowding into Jaskier and manhandling him up towards the pillows. Jaskier knows he’s not delicate, knows he can hold his ground, but there’s something freeing in letting himself be moved like this, in knowing the raw strength flowing through Geralt’s body.

“What do you want?” Geralt asks, sitting back on his heels as he looks at Jaskier. He seems wrecked, pupils blown and expression hungry as he licks his lips and watches Jaskier squirm under his gaze.

“You,” Jaskier replies without thinking. “Anything, whatever you want. I just wanted to get prettied up for you.”

“You are pretty for me _every single day_ you’re near me,” Geralt tells him, and Jaskier can’t help whining again, chews on his lower lip as he contemplates the amount of power he holds over the gorgeous man in front of him. It’s heady and he could easily get drunk on this feeling.

“Kiss me again,” he demands, and Geralt rushes to comply. The kiss is harsh, more teeth and tongues than skill. Geralt bites at Jaskier’s lower lip, tugging as he pulls back and grins at him. His lips have a peachy sheen to them, and Jaskier realizes it’s his makeup rubbing off. He reaches up and runs a thumb across Geralt’s lips, wiping it off before darting forward and kissing him again.

“I’d really like to suck you off,” Geralt murmurs against his lips, and it’s all Jaskier can do to frantically nod. Geralt chuckles and kisses along his jawline, leaving a wet trail as he moves down his neck. He nips at the straps circling his throat before continuing on. He presses wet, open-mouthed kisses down Jaskier’s chest, stopping to suck and bite at his nipples for a bit. He runs his fingers through Jaskier’s chest hair, tugging lightly and making him gasp and bend into the touch.

Jaskier lets himself sink further into the pillows, his body heavy as Geralt spreads him out and makes his way down his chest. The golden straps of the lingerie weave across his stomach, and Geralt slowly presses a kiss inside each diamond of skin, his thumbs rubbing circles on Jaskier’s hip bones as he does.

“Please,” he begs, but Geralt just moves past his prick, avoiding where it’s leaking onto his outfit. He licks and nips at Jaskier’s inner thighs, tonguing along the straps circling them. With a whine, Jaskier tries to buck into him, but Geralt is too strong and throws a forearm across his hips to hold him still.

He feels like he might die before he gets Geralt’s mouth on him. His whole body is on fire, and he knows he’s flushed with it. His chest hair is damp, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat already. Geralt keeps working his way down his body, biting and licking down each calf before pressing lingering kisses against his ankles.

He’s both weightless and heavier than he’s ever been before, body a contrast of heat and cooling sweat under Geralt’s sweet torture. Keening, he pushes his head back into the pillow and tries to chase Geralt’s mouth, longing for more kisses and small bites. Geralt moves back up to his hips, moving the embroidered flowers aside to suck a mark into the soft skin beneath it. He laps at the mark, looking up at Jaskier from beneath his lashes.

“Please,” he whines again, and Geralt finally takes pity on him.

He cries out as Geralt wraps his thick fingers around his length and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth. He knows he’s leaking, absolutely wet and filthy with it, and Geralt swallows around him and sucks him down. He’s insanely good at this, and all Jaskier can do is lay there as Geralt tears him apart.

His mouth is hot and wet as he sucks him down, and Jaskier can’t help bucking his hips. He knows Geralt can take it, and he has to close his eyes to keep from spilling too soon when Geralt sinks deeper, taking all of him. The head of his cock bumps the back of Geralt’s throat, and Jaskier moans, thighs shaking as Geralt hollows his cheeks and really starts to move.

There’s no way he’s going to last long, not when he’s already keyed up like this, and Geralt knows it. He doesn’t waste time, loosens his grip on Jaskier’s hips and lets him fuck up into his mouth. Geralt cups his balls, playing with him while Jaskier slams into him.

It’s Geralt’s face that sends him over the edge; the blissful look he shoots up at Jaskier. His eyes are watering, his perfect lips stretched thin around Jaskier’s prick, and he looks so fucking amazing that Jaskier can’t stand it. Shouting his name, Jaskier comes hard, vision blackening as he spills down Geralt’s eager throat. Geralt moans around him and swallows quickly, milking him through his earth-shattering orgasm.

Jaskier is crying by the time he pulls back, overwhelmed in the best possible way.

“You good?” Geralt asks as he crawls up Jaskier’s body, stopping to sit on his thighs.

“So fucking good,” Jaskier sighs, grinning up at him. He reaches out to offer a hand, but Geralt waves him off and wraps his fingers around his straining cock.

“Close,” he grunts out as he starts to fuck his own fist. Jaskier licks his lips and tilts his hips, trying to provide a better visual as Geralt pumps himself. He looks wild like this, his muscles tense as he works over his prick. He’s leaking onto Jaskier’s thighs, dampening the yellow straps of his lingerie.

Geralt runs his other hand up Jaskier’s chest, palming the x of straps between his nipples. He pulls on the ribbon, and Jaskier arches into it, spine bowing beautifully as Geralt watches him with hungry eyes. And then he’s hissing, sobbing into his own orgasm as he comes in hot spurts across Jaskier’s stomach, painting the lingerie in white streaks.

He all but collapses on top of Jaskier, whining as he comes down from it. Jaskier runs his hands over his shoulders, down his back, keeping him calm as he works through it. They’re both panting, bodies shaking as they lay together. Jaskier turns his head and presses a soft kiss against the column of Geralt’s throat and is rewarded with a pleased hum.

“Next time, I want you to fuck me in this. Want you to hold onto the straps as you absolutely _wreck_ me,” Jaskier tells him, and Geralt lets out a pathetic whimper against his neck.

“You’re evil.”

“You liked me just fine a moment ago,” Jaskier teases softly.

“Give me a few and we can go again,” Geralt mumbles, and thank goodness for that famed witcher stamina. His own cock is _very_ interested in that offer, and he starts to roll his hips, rutting up against Geralt to let him know he’s ready and willing. 

Jaskier just hopes his outfit lasts the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com/).


End file.
